Hannah Nguyen aihan11374265

Silver blue sky, spread with rosy clouds, overlooks the city in the canyon. Deep between the rising red spires of rock, the azure river flows calmly past after a million years of wearing down the stone. The sun descends behind the horizon, leaving the sky stained a pale violet. As dusk descends, golden halos of light illuminate the crags between the reddened towers. A breeze passes, whistling a song in its journey between the cliffs, and urges the butterflies from their nests.

The bartender pours the liquor into the cup, and the cloaked man sitting at the counter downs the shot. Across the room lit by dangling citrine lanterns, by the crackling fireplace, a musician starts to play a violin. Raw, rusty sound fills the stuffy but gradually weaves into a fast-paced tune. The regulars at the creaky tables begin to stand up. In a corner, a copper-haired girl sits on a barrel, arms folded, leaning against the grimy wall with a surly scowl. The young man stands up, unfurls his cloak with a smirk, takes her hand and pulls her off her seat. He grabs her by the waist and whirls into the center of the room. Their boots tap the chestnut floorboards, and they dance amidst claps and cheers. She spins around and clasps his hand. Her caramel eyes soften and slowly, her scowl disappears.

Gray clouds precede the midnight black
once arrived, coats the sky in ink-
magenta sparks explode in the air,
followed by gold, crimson, emerald, and sapphire-
on the roof, a man lights another firework.
The rocket blooms in the sky,
casting a kaleidoscope of multicolored smoke on
slate stone buildings border the streets-
connected awning to awning by tawny ropes
hanging lanterns cast citrine glows below-
where crowds shuffle between chestnut walls
and mahogany planks of run-down buildings.
Nearby, in a darkened alleyway,
the silver sword escapes its sheath.
White strips of bandage unravel around the blade
revealing rows of runes glowing azure blue
in the air slowly darkening with dusk.
A hooded stranger folded in ragged cloaks of black
spins and plunges the sword-
in the dimness, a body falls-
staining the cobblestones with scarlet.

I saw a giant huntsman spider
perched in the middle of the wall
just underneath my dusty windowsill.
And without thinking, I quickly gathered up
a physics textbook in my arms
and flung the entire brick of a book
across the room at the windowsill.
Unfortunately, as a teenager
I was scrolling through Instagram on my phone
so I watched my five hundred dollar iPhone 7
tag along with my textbook for the ride
and fly in a perfect arc at the windowsill.
My textbook obliterated the spider in one strike
leaving a blob of waxy yellowed guts
and all parts left of the spider corpse
but my phone went flying outside
in the same continuous arc
and I realize that I forgot to close the window
much earlier this morning
which was how the spider probably got inside
and down beneath the windowsill.

Behold, my mess of a desk, covered with
a powder blue vinyl pencil case,
a glass of water on a mosaic coaster,
bags of original sea salt flavored potato chips,
and a half-liter bottle of Snapple mango tea.

Also I almost forgot-
point five-millimeter lead graphite pencils,
two pigma micron archival ink pens,
biology, chemistry, and psychology textbooks,
a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts,
a half-completed sketchbook of penciled anatomy studies,
a digital watch ticking rapidly from ninety seconds,
an opened laptop with ten tabs open,
and a word document listing a poem.

Look, there, beyond the rolling hills,
round knuckles of emerald,
past the gentle slopes of grass.
Ignore the dark dirt beneath our feet,
or the chestnut dust mingling with mud.
Do not cry with the rain.
Look past the box buildings coated with grime
with their flat roofs and wooden plank walls
and dusty, cracked glass windows.
Stand on the broken swing dangling from the aged tree
with its thick, tired branch bowing down,
grab the frayed rope and stand on the cracked leather seat
and look up, out, and far.
Look beyond the cumulus clouds
to where the blue peeks out
over the slate mountains and their crystal snow caps
where the glaciers begin edging down
to sapphire lakes in plains of gold
that melt to deserts of crimson and dunes of sand.

Dusk fills the darkening azure sky as the sun descends behind the horizon. The girl ceases her skipping through the field. Grass comes up to her waist as she leaps. Sitting upon a log, the boy watches as she raises her enclosed fist. He tilts his head and rests his chin on his elbow. The cool breeze rustles her copper hair, but her gaze is pointed down and not at him. And then, from within her palm, deep golden light emerges. Little dots trail out from between her fingers and float towards him. He lifts one index finger to lightly tap one of the luminescent citrine spots. The tiny insect flutters away from him on delicate, filmy wings, leaving behind a zig-zag trail of gold.